Edit: Forget soonish, Chapter 7 is DONE!
*victory dance*
May I call you Ozy, for short?
You totally can.
Zoot did seem a little off at first, but when I popped in TMSS1, it really became quite clear the tone that he would be coming across as.
Good, that was one thing I was concerned about for a bit there.
@ Muppet fan 123, We Got Us, bouncingbabyfig and anyone else I might have missed: THANK YOU!
Author's Note: This chapter does contain one instance where a beloved character acts rather...out-of-character. This is because grief can do really strange things to both muppets and people alike, as I learned when my sister reacted much differently to the news about my favorite English teacher's death than I did.
By the way, how's my characterization of Gonzo? I don't know a lot about him, and haven't seen the full Muppet Show past Season One (only snippets of it), so I'm not entirely familiar with his character. Was I able to get it close, at least?
Also, I'm trying to think of a good song the remaining Muppets can sing as a tribute to Richard Hunt at his memorial service, but I can't really find anything good (that's older than 1992). Any suggestions?
Anyways, on with Chapter 7!
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Chapter 7
Gonzo didn’t go very far. He just led Bunsen to the far right corner of the theatre and plonked down on the floor, his back against the wall. Not sure what to make of this, Bunsen gingerly sat down next to him.
“You weren’t at the theatre when Jim died, were you?” Gonzo began, pulling his feet towards himself and draping his arms over his knees, his hands hanging limply.
Bunsen shook his head. “I had the day off. My parents were in town, so I visited them for the day. It was great, but coming home to that news was a bit of a nasty shock.”
Gonzo nodded sympathetically. “Who told you the news?” He asked.
“When I got home there was a message on the phone from Beaker. He sounded pretty upset and wanted me to call him as soon as I got home, so I did. It was very unpleasant, hearing what had happened over the phone.” Bunsen winced.
“Yeah, I get what you’re saying. I can think of worse ways of hearing stuff like that though. Letters, Morse code, smoke signals...” Gonzo’s hands were coming to life, spinning and jerking around for emphasis. “You know, I was in the theatre when Jim died. Was just packing up and calling ‘er a day, and Rowlf was with me. He’d stayed late to practice a bit, you know how he gets with Choppin’---”
“Chopin.” Bunsen corrected him. Seriously, get to the point!
“Right, Chopin. Anyways, Rowlf and I are talking as Rowlf’s locking the place up (don’t ask me where he got the keys) because Kermit had gone home with a headache and had heard that Jim was sick. I don’t think anyone thought too much of it at the time. Anyways, Rowlf is kind of quiet for a bit, listening to me tell him about my date with Camilla that I was going to have in a few hours (which never did happen, once the news broke out)—”
“What does this have to do with Be—”
“I’ll get to that! Don’t interrupt a storyteller as he practices his art!” Gonzo said, giving Bunsen an annoyed look.
“Sorry, sorry.” Bunsen said, cheeks flaming with embarrassment. “Continue on.”
“Anyways, as I was saying, I was telling Rowlf about my plans for the date, and he’s smiling, and all of a sudden he’s not smiling anymore. He tries to say something, but it’s like no sound comes out of him. None, just wheezing where he’s breathing all hard and funny, like someone just kicked him or something.”
“If I may speak, that sounds somewhat similar to what happened to Beaker when we were in the lab this morning. He was actually in the middle of uttering a statement when…well, you know.” Bunsen frowned and glanced towards where Beaker was sitting. He was getting really worried, as his assistant still hadn’t moved. The theatre was almost empty now, save for the Electric Mayhem at the front of the theatre.
“Right.” Gonzo gestured wildly about with his hand, his eyes vacant, caught up in the memory. “He stopped walking, just stood there, and his face…” He shuddered. “I’m never going to forget that as long as I live. I turned around and, well, kind of freaked out a bit since I’ve never seen him quite like that. I asked him what was wrong, and I guess I scared him, because he ran away from me down the street.” Bunsen’s breath hitched as he recognized the parallels from earlier that morning. “I chased him clear on down to Parker Street, I did, ‘cause I had no idea what was going on and I was really reallyscaredbecauseIthoughthe’dcaughtrabiesorsomethingandwasgonnagocrazyorhewashurtandIdidn’tknowwhattodosowhenIcaughtuptohimhebarkedatmeandIgrabbedathim—” Gonzo’s pupils had shrunk down to the size of pinpricks, and he was turning a deep shade of purple from losing breath.
“Gonzo! Slow down!” Bunsen yelped, smacking him on the shoulder. Gonzo’s head jerked violently.
“HE BIT ME!” He shrieked. Bunsen shrank back, startled.
“What?”
“He bit me, right on the arm, hard enough to leave bruises, and if I still had them I’d show them to you.”
“Surely you jest!” Bunsen exclaimed, shocked. He couldn’t imagine Rowlf, gentle-natured Rowlf, doing anything like that. Ever. It was completely out of his character to do so. Bunsen almost found it hard to believe.
“I’m Gonzo.” The strange muppet blinked. “And I don’t jest, that’s Fozzie’s job.”
“I don’t believe it.” Bunsen murmured.
“Yeah, it was like he didn’t even know me, you know? He ran off after that, and I still followed him, but only just enough to make sure he didn’t get himself dragged off by the SPCA or something. He came to his senses later, but he didn’t know where he was at first, and couldn’t really remember what happened. He still couldn’t speak, and I think that’s when I realized that something must’ve happened to Jim. I still don’t think Rowlf remembers what happened.” Gonzo looked pointedly at Bunsen. “You won’t tell anyone, will you?”
“No, of course not!”
“Good. Keep this between Goelz’ own, you know?” Gonzo nudged him with a smile.
“I see.” Bunsen nodded, somewhat dazed. “I can see why you held me back now, seeing as you noticed the parallels between the incident you just described to me and what happened this morning, but there was a bit of a flaw in your logic.”
“My logic ain’t flawed! It’s perfectly fine!” Gonzo snorted.
“Beaker wouldn’t bite anyone.” Bunsen said, suddenly plagued with a mental image of Beaker going feral and doing just that, and trying to stifle a laugh at the thought. It was absurd.
“Maybe not,” Gonzo stretched and shuffled to his feet. “But all I know is that Rowlf bit me, even though he probably didn’t mean to, and I was his friend, so I’d hate to see what Beaker would have done to you.” He sat back and arched his back to crack his spine. “I’m going to go find Camilla. She’s probably in the loft, so you know where to find me if you need to.”
“Right. Hey, Gonzo?” Bunsen said, still seated on the floor.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
Gonzo grinned and was gone. Bunsen sat there, thinking. Something was off about Gonzo’s last sentence. What was it? I was his friend, so I’d hate to see what Beaker would have done…wait a minute! Is he saying that I’m not his friend? Of course I’m his friend! Why, I’ve given him a good job and good pay and I’ve stuck with him and have been nothing but…nice…
The argument from this morning flashed through Bunsen’s head, and he winced. Then more past arguments came back, more bickering, not a whole lot of apologies. Accusations, harsh words when it appeared that Beaker had broken some equipment, chiding him for behaving childishly, with childish fears, and all of this from Bunsen to Beaker. Ouch.
I haven’t behaved much like a friend, have I? Our last words before all of this began were angry words… Bunsen shook his head, then clonked it softly against the panel work done on the walls of the theatre. “Stupid.” He muttered under his breath. “How could I have been so idiotic and selfish? I’m not just eyeless, I’m blind!”
He sat there for a while, mentally berating himself. The lights in the theatre were turning out, one by one. Suddenly Bunsen scrambled to his feet as an idea hit him. He looked toward the front of the theatre to see if his assistant was still there. He was, and the two of them were now the only ones in the theatre. Perfect.
Bunsen quietly made his way down the side aisle of the theatre. It was eerily quiet and still in the massive room, and for a moment, Bunsen felt like he did whenever he was in a church by himself (which did happen on occasion). He could see Beaker hunched over, his face in his hands, perfectly still. Bunsen reached the edge of the stage, and then started walking alongside it, idly dragging his hand along the floor boards of the raised surface. Beaker glanced up from where he was sitting at the noise Bunsen’s footsteps were making, and then stood to his feet. Bunsen stopped several feet away, and for a moment, the two of them didn’t say a word. Beaker looked terrible.
Bunsen broke the silence. “I’m sorry, Beaker.” He said quietly. “I’m sorry for what happened this morning. I was being inconsiderate and self-centered, and I’m sorry for accusing you of breaking the machine.”
Beaker blinked, silent.
“What’s more, I’m sorry for not treating you well lately. I haven’t been a very good friend to you at all. I thought I was, but really, I haven’t, and I’m sorry that it took what happened to Richard to finally make me realize that. I know it’s a lot to ask, but could you please find it in your heart to forgive me?”
Still silence. Beaker opened his mouth and closed it several times. Bunsen stepped towards Beaker, desperation rising in his chest. “I am so, so sorry, and I know that you’re really hurting right now, and I just want to help you get through this in any way that I can.” Still silence. Bunsen looked away, guilt filling him. “I don’t know how I can ever make it up to you,” He said, his voice catching, “But I—”
Before he knew what was happening, Beaker had rushed forward and pulled him into a rough embrace, crying. Bunsen froze, unused to physical contact from anybody, and then hugged his assistant back. How could he forgive me so easily? Bunsen wondered, humbled. He patted his assistant on the shoulder.
“Thank you.” He said quietly, crying quietly himself though there were no tears to show for it. “Now come on,” He said, gently prying himself from Beaker’s hug, “let’s get out of here. We’ll get through this.” Some way, somehow, we will. “I’m sorry to hear about Richard, Beaker. He was a good man.”
If Bunsen looked towards the rafters at that moment, he would have seen two piercing yellow eyes staring at them, fascinated. For a moment, Uncle Deadly considered tossing his apple core at the bald one’s head, then thought better of it. They were leaving now anyways.
The door at the end of the theatre swung shut, and the last of the lights went out.
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Christmas Music
Macy's Thanksgiving Parade
Jim Henson Idea Man
Back to the Rock Season 2
Bear arrives on Disney+
Sam and Friends Book
>random< Anyhoo. *waits for more*
Just like this one Ozy, so do what you can for us! The two of you combined not only put me to shame on the writing scale, but make me do irresponsible things that end me up being tired and depressed (but somehow, in a happy way). >>wags shamefully jealous, admiring finger at both<<
